


Overtime

by Astronoddingoff



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: Begging, Desk Sex, F/M, Pegging, Praise Kink, and also i couldn't find her actual name, bc we call her that in my discord, creative flow is better than grammer, is ready room sex a thing? it is now, no proper punctuation we die writing run on sentences like men, number ones name is una
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-09
Updated: 2019-04-09
Packaged: 2020-01-07 06:40:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18405203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Astronoddingoff/pseuds/Astronoddingoff
Summary: “Una” He says, firmer this time, probably to tell her something like ‘I have work to do’ or ‘Fucking in the ready room is wholly inappropriate’ even though they’ve done it before many times, and something in her feels like it snaps.Pike works himself too hard, Una is done with his self sacrificing bullshit, and men get pegged. These are the known laws of the Starship Enterprise





	Overtime

**Author's Note:**

> There’s only one other Pike/Una fic that I’ve seen about this, and god knows I might as well make the content I wanna see. Let Pike Get Pegged 2k19, and also Una knows all his weaknesses. Shoutout to my discord server for inspiring me to write so here, I give unto thee bad porn

He’s been in the ready room for at least two hours now. Technically, he’s not even supposed to be there still. Neither is she, to be fair, but she’s not about to leave her station without him even if her shift ended two hours ago. She had sent along the message that she would pull the extra shift with him to her replacement, and had tried unsuccessfully to pull him away from the ready room twice now, to no avail. Una lets out a breath, staring down at the screen in front of her with a blank expression. ‘ _He’s working himself too hard_ ’, she thinks, eyes drifting towards the doors to the ready room. ‘ _He needs to go to bed_ ’ also crosses her mind before, unbidden, it’s followed by ‘ _He needs to be dragged to bed_ ’. And shit, maybe it’s because she’s bored out of her mind at her station, or maybe it’s because they haven’t had one of their ‘casual encounters’ in a while (not enough time, never enough time these days), but she feels heat pooling at the thought. She entertains it for a brief moment.

The first question is how she’s gonna hypothetically broach this. Does she just walk in and go “Hey Chris, I know we’ve been sleeping together for, uh, not that long, but you need a break and I’m bored, how about we take this to the couch”? She half laughs at the thought before her mind helpfully reminds her of something. Of what lays in her quarters. Her hand pauses mid-tap to some random report to her screen. She can practically see it in her mind's eye. Her quarters, second drawer next to her bed, under 3 shirts and wrapped in spare sheets. The thing she’s been waiting to broach the topic of with Chris for weeks now. The thing that’s been fueling her fantasies for just as many weeks.

She takes a steadying breath. ‘ _No_ ’ she thinks, resuming her tapping and skimming of the maintenance reports in front of her. ‘ _This is not the optimal time to bring that to the table’_ , she reasons.

‘ _But maybe it_ _is_ ’, her mind supplies. ‘ _He didn’t cave at The Puppy Eyes the first time we tried to pull him from work, and The Glare that normally works failed on round two_ ’. She swallows. Her resistance to this whole thing that started as a joke is rapidly crumbling.

‘ _Maybe he needs to remember he’s not the only person who makes decisions around here_ ’

She turns around to the conn and asks Pike’s replacement, Lieutenant Phillips, for her break before she can talk herself out of it. She gets an affirmative nod from him and a gesture to the lift, which she walks towards as casually as she can manage. Only once she gets there and requests her floor, watches the doors close and feels it begin to move do her shoulders drop and she lets out a breath. Is she really gonna do this? The trickling heat that had begun to pool earlier only seems to get hotter. Each floor she waits her mind keeps drifting. Memories start to flood her. Of him fucking her in each of their quarters, their shared bathroom, the times she’s pushed him down and ridden him. She falls even deeper, into some of her favorite memories; of all the few times she’s seen his control crack at the edges. The one time she rode him on his bed and pinned his hands above his head and coming far quicker than she had thought she would at the sheer sight of him. His head thrashing against the pillow until his hair was a wreck, eyes screwed shut, his normally quiet gasps now pleas for more, muttered curses and desperate cries. His hips had stuttered so prettily under her and his body rolled with the motions seemingly of it own volition. He had been _wrecked_ , and damn her if that memory didn’t still affect her.

‘ _Fuck_ ’, she thinks, Her head tilts back to stare at the ceiling as the lift slows, trying to steady herself.

‘ _We’re doing this_ ’.

The lift slides to a stop, doors open and Una stops herself from literally *sprinting* to her quarters, but only just. She makes it punches the code into her door and and beelines for her drawer as soon as she hears the woosh of the doors shutting behind her. Shoving shirts and jackets aside and unraveling sheets, she finds what she’s looking for and lays it all out on her bed, taking a heaving breath she hasn’t noticed she needed. She stares.

The harness is a soft enough material, thin but sturdy dark straps that her black uniform pants will almost certainly hide the outline of. She knows first hand how well it’s fitted to her body, had spent ages adjusting it even after finding the right size, wanting it to be perfect. Straps to wind around her thighs, hug her hips just right. Her eyes focus on the front bit, a circular panel with a triangular piece at the bottom that curves downward to press against her when on, grooves on the inside that will rub against her clit in all the best ways when being used. The flat circular panel has the ability to materialize a few different toys at the tap of a remote. Her eyes flicker to the remote in question, which sits just a few inches away. To the naked eye looking not dissimilar to an old fashion watch, the wrist strap the same material as the harness. She takes a steadying breath, and reaches for it. Cycling through the options she’s already painfully aware of is more of a courtesy planning move than anything, but when her eyes settle on one in specific, arousal stabs through her.

 A long, black model with raised ridges under the thick head of it, flaring out once again at the base of it. Fuck, even she wants to shove herself down on it. A mental image is suddenly conjured that leaves her damn near breathless. Of him fucking himself down onto it, onto her, how his jaw might slacken, eyes screwed shut or wide open as he feels each ridge press into him-

She stands and hurriedly begins pulling at her uniform to get them on her before she changes her mind and/or she’s late to the bridge. As she secures the straps, the grooves on the inside panel slide against her clit *just right* and she has to put a not insignificant amount of willpower into not rocking into it harder, or pressing her hand between her legs and getting off right there. ‘ _Later’_ she tells herself hurriedly. She slips on the watch band under her sleeve and taps at it again so the toy in question dematerialized, only the circular panel it once jutted from remaining. She slips her underwear and pants back on over the harness, then her boots. She fishes a few small packs of lube she liberated from medical into her pocket as an afterthought. She _knows_ Chris has a bottle of the stuff hidden somewhere in the ready room- post battle adrenaline fucks are _fantastic_ , and sometimes you just can’t wait for shift to end- but she also knows she doesn’t wanna go searching for it while she tries to convince her captain to let her fuck him with a strap on. With that, she checks the time- ten minutes before her break is up- and nods once to herself before heading for the door.

She hurriedly walks out and to the lift, gets on with a few ensigns and Lieutenants who happily chat with her, and she tries as hard as she can to act as though she isn’t *ridiculously* turned on and about to go try and fuck their beloved captain into next week a few feet from the bridge. Miraculously, she makes it to the bridge without bursting into flame nor laughter, and heads to her station. She’s got this. Pretend to see an important message that requires Chris’s attention, and lie through her teeth to Lieutenant Phillips when she asks to bring it to the ready room, get the go ahead she’ll always get, get inside.

She does just that and gets up to part three when something doesn’t go according to plan. Phillips looks at her for a moment, analyzes her face; he can tell something doesn’t quite add up. Anxiety briefly floods her- she _cannot_ be stuck for the rest of a shift that isn’t even _hers_ while wearing a goddamn harness rubbing against _her clit_ \- but she forces it down. ‘ _You can do this_ ’ she tells herself. She heaves a pretend sigh as she smiles softly at Phillips, takes a step towards the conn for a more private exchange.

“Ok,you caught me. Look, It _is_ important, and he _should_ be made aware of the message, but it’s not urgent _per se_ ”, she begins quietly. A guilty smile, small hand gestures to go with it for theatrics.

“But he’s been pulling longer shifts like this for days, and he can’t survive off caffeine and willpower, and I wanna try to ease him out of there before he ends up staying until next Alpha shift. Or he falls asleep at his desk. Again.” she continues, a teasing tone in her voice. She says the last word conspiratorially, like she's just let him in on something she shouldn’t. This isn’t unlike when she and Chris go to those Starfleet events where they smile and schmooze with admirals to get what they want, and by the look on Phillips face as he smiles, amused, she can tell it’s working. ‘ _Just a little bit more..’_

“With your permission, can I bring this into him and _attempt_ to coax him out of his cave so our Captain doesn’t die of sleep deprivation?” She asks, with a gentle plead in her voice.

‘ _Please buy it please buy it please say yes so I don’t sit here for another 3 hours like this_ ’

Phillips lets out a half chuckle, nodding his head slightly. “Permission granted. Good luck and godspeed, Una” and gestures to the doors of the ready room.

‘ _Success! Stage one complete, stage two underway_ ’. She nods to him, smiles through a thank you, mechanically grabs a padd from the station, transfers a random report, and makes her way to the doors of the ready room. Trepidation and arousal hitting her once again as she presses the chime. No backing out now.

The doors open almost instantly, and she sees Chris at his desk reading and tapping at some report, a stack of padds on his desk next to him. He looks up and, once realizing it’s her, his eyes go soft and a teasing smile pulls at the corners of his mouth.

“Here to try again?” He asks good naturedly, referring to her earlier failed attempts.

She smiles as she steps into the threshold, doors whooshing shut behind her. ‘ _Now for the hard part’_

“More like trying to give you something”, she quips, unable to stop the smugness of knowing something he doesn’t from invading her tone. Her mouth moves from from a small smile to a smirk and she doesn’t bother to stop it. She watches as his own smile falters a bit, his eyes widening just a tad, eyebrow quirking as he tries and fails to read her. ‘ _He can tell I’m planning something_ ’, she thinks. ‘ _Invite me closer, take the bait’_ , she silently prays.

He cautiously glances at her padd. “And what do you have for me?” He questions, nodding with his chin to it.

She takes this as her clearance to walk towards him, rounding the desk, anticipation building in her gut. She’s within arms reach, but only just, and brings the hand holding the padd up from her side to hold in front of her. When he reaches for it, she pulls it behind her back quickly, even makes a teasing ‘ah ah ah” chiding noise. He sighs tiredly with it, eyes rolling.

“Una” he begins frustratedly, but she cuts him off

“Chris” she says, matching his tone, rocking on the balls of her feet and bending slightly at the waist towards him, a mocking lilt to her voice. ‘ _You want it_ ’ she mentally challenges him, ‘ _Come and get it_ ’.

It works, and Chris stands from the chair and reaches out a hand for her, stepping into her space, and she sees her chance and _lunges_. She flicks the padd back onto the floor behind her as her hands reach out and grab his waist, body moving quickly as she half-spins him backwards. He inhales sharply in surprise and within a second his hips are pinned between her own and the desks edge. One of her hands moves from his waist to cup the side of his neck, as she crashes her lips into his. A thumb caresses his pulse point as she swipes her tongue at his lips.

Chris, for his part, fights for all of a few seconds before seemingly giving in at least partway, opening his mouth against hers, letting her tongue slide against his own, a few pleased noises escaping his throat as a hand cups her hip. When she breaks away, he murmurs to her.

“Una?”

She shakes her head, hand unzipping his jacket, and this time one of his hands covers here's to try and stop her.

“Una” He says, firmer this time, probably to tell her something like ‘ _I have work to do_ ’ or ‘ _Fucking in the ready room is wholly inappropriate_ ’ even though they’ve done it before many times, and something in her feels like it snaps. She is far too aroused and far too frustrated with him for Chris to just brush her off and she pulls away enough to look him in his eyes.

“ _Christopher_ ” she hisses, planting her hands on his chest, and she feels more than hears the intake of his breath, sees his pupils dilate, either at her tone, or the use of his full name. ‘ _Interesting_ ’ she thinks, filing that for later. ‘ _Good start_ ’.

“Look, you can say no if you’re not in the mood, and that’s well and good, but you’ve been at this for almost three * _fucking_ * hours, and this is the fourth day in a row you’re pulling double shifts, and I Don’t Like You working yourself to the bone”, she continues, jabbing her fingers periodically into his chest as she stares him down. She keeps going.

“You’re a good man, and an even better captain, but you’re not the only one who makes decisions around here, and I know as well as you do that you need a break.”

And she feels his breath, now deeper, and just a tad harder, eyes transfixed on her like he can’t look away even if he tried. ‘ _Perfect_ ’, she thinks. ‘ _Time to seal the deal_ ’. Her hands relax against him, palms open, slowly sliding down the plain of his broad chest as she shifts her tone. Still firm, but softer, pleading undertones.

“You _deserve_ a break. Let me take care of you Chris”. Her hips press gently into his, and she watches his eyes cloud over a bit.

“Do you know how good you look when you let me take care of you?” She asks, softly, one hand sliding down the abs she can feel clearly under the skin tight shirt, other coming up to scratch gently at the nape of his neck. His inhale is labored, confusion and arousal plain in his eyes as he watches her. They’ve danced around this before; hints of praise here, letting her be the one on top a few times, but never _this far_. Never enough to truly shift the dynamic, their ebb and flow of power, too far. She shifts even closer, her left hand at his hip with the thumb precariously close to the junction of his thigh, right cupping the side of his neck.

“Do you know how badly you make me wanna rip these clothes off you? Bend you over the desk, the couch, the floor, have you screaming under me?” She feels her words land, the labored inhale he takes, the way his eyes flicker down to her groin and back to her eyes, a blush rising high on his cheeks. She smiles with the rush of _power_ , angles her head as she eyes his neck, imagines the bruises she wants to suck into his skin. The hand on his neck slides forward so her thumb can press gently on his carotid artery, and to her surprise and pleasure he moves his head seemingly unthinkingly into it, pressing it harder into him. She takes a breath and exhales, her words coming out with the sigh,

“God, _baby,_ I wanna hear you _*beg*_ for it”

She didn’t even mean for the pet name to slip out, but she’s sure as hell glad it did. It pulls a soft, honest to god _whine_ from him, and she feels him twitch against her stomach from just how rapidly turned on he’s getting. His eyes slid shut, blush damn near *everywhere*, and he looks oh so pretty in the golden light streaming through the windows from surrounding galaxies. She grabs at his neck a bit tighter and Chris leans into it, another whimper in his throat and Una feels another hot pulse of arousal hit her. ‘ _God, this is *so much better* than I could have hoped_ ’. He’s practically melting into her, white knuckling the desk with both hands, so close to just giving up control completely to her, and she’s surprised to feel just how bad she wants that too. How bad she wants him to trust her enough to _let go_ , to see him well and truly lose it under her.

She swallows, and pushes her thumb against his pulse point again, leans into him until her lips are against his ear. She practically purrs into it, quietly, level, but with just a hint of what could be a threat or a promise,

“ _Will you be good for me Christopher_?”

Whatever she expected his reaction to be, the way he _does_ react is somehow even hotter. His head falls back as a quiet desperate noise leaves him and his hips rock against hers pressed tightly to him in a jerky twitch. It bumps the harness in _just_ the right way and the ribbed piece brushes her clit and she gasps a bit at the sensation. She can feel his cock now straining at the seams of his pants, pushing against her. She watches the muscles in his throat contract as he swallows hard and pants,

“ _Please_ ”. It’s rough, an edge to it she hasn’t heard in his voice since the time she thought about in the elevator, and it opens the floodgates in her mind and lust damn near bowls her over. She presses a soft kiss to his neck, just under his ear.

“ _Good boy_ ” she whispers reverently. A quiet, clipped sigh leaves him as his head tilts, offering his neck to her, which she takes.

She sucks light kisses into anywhere his uniform doesn’t hide, slowly working her way down until she gets right to where the collar hits, and she _bites_ , sucking hard and laving her tongue against the wound, kissing it softly before repeating the treatment to the other side. She wants him to _feel it_ when they leave here; feel the tight collar of their uniforms rub against it, teasing him for _days_ to come. She wants him to remember her lips on him every time he pulls at his collar in that way he does absentmindedly while sitting at the conn. And if the way he gasps and makes little “ _ah_ ” noises as she bites him is any indication, he knows it. When she’s gotten to every area she can reach with his jacket open and his shirt still on, she pulls back to admire her handiwork. And _fuck_ , he looks wrecked already. Hair mussed, face even redder, bites and bruises already forming on his neck. He opens his eyes and they’re clouded over, half lidded and full of something she’s never seen before.

‘ _Submission_ ’, her brain helpfully supplies. ‘ _He’s bending *for her*, and *only her*’_ . The thought ricocheting through her. Fuck, she has to have him _Now_  

She leans into him again and his hands grab at her sides like a lifeline, like she’s the only thing tethering him to any kind of solid ground. She caresses his cheek with her hand and whispers praise as she looks him in the eyes, drunk off the heady feeling it gives her knowing he’s willingly put himself at her mercy.

“You’re So good to me, Chris, so good. Chris baby, do you trust me?” She asks, and he nods without hesitation. She smiles warmly at him; he’s just too adorable like this.

“That’s good baby”, and she sees his lips quirk in a small smile, at the name or the praise, she doesn’t know. “I’d love to take you apart, if you’ll let me” and his cheeks go a lovely shade of red as he nods again, seemingly beyond words. She breathes out a small laugh. “Ok honey, you wanna follow me to the couch?”

His face shifts, and he shakes his head, hands tightening at her sides. For a second she wonders if she did something wrong, said something wrong. Shaking his head seemingly brings some clarity to him and he opens his mouth to speak.

“No,” he says, rough and desperate. “Just, here? I need- I, I _want_ ” he trails off, unable to meet her eyes, and the arousal that had momentarily receded from her in her worry crashes back into her like a tsunami. ‘ _Fuck, he really wants me to bend him over the desk_ ’ she thinks, almost delirious and fuzzy headed with how turned on she is. She grabs his chin and gently moves him to face her before she surges forward and kisses him him deeply, pushing as much fondness and attraction into it as she can manage. The desperate noise he makes against her as he curls his whole body into her tells her he gets it, somehow. When she pulls back for breath she grabs his face with both hands and murmurs to him breathlessly,

“Of course babe, god that’s so hot, fuck”. And she’s glad she had opened her eyes when she did because she gets to see the way his own slide shut, head tilting back again, a lazy pleased smile pulling across his features as he sighs with her words, and fuck, if that image isn’t gonna be on her mind haunting her every waking moment for _weeks_ to come. How either of them are gonna be able to work together without fucking each other over the conn during shifts after this is beyond her. He’s like putty in her hands and they’ve barely started.

She pushes his jacket from his shoulders. “We’re gonna need some privacy hon” She says gently, rubbing her hands down his now jacket free arms, and she pulls at the hem of his shirt as he calls distractedly, as though he has to remember how to pull words together, for the computer to initiate privacy protocol. When his undershirt is off she leans back into him, hand sliding down his side and over his hip.

“Soundproofing too, love” she murmurs into his ear before biting his lobe, hand on his hip rounding behind him to squeeze his ass, and he jumps just slightly in her arms with a breathy laugh as he tilts his head back to the ceiling and calls for just that. Satisfied, she grabs his hands, guides them to her jacket. “ _Good boy_. Think you can return the favor?”

She barely needs to ask before he’s pulling the zipper down, sliding it down her arms so gently, (always gently with Chris, even when they’re in a rush, or fucking through an adrenaline fueled haze after a mission, or, apparently, when Chris is half lost in subspace and drunk on praise), and tossing it gently into his chair before pulling her shirt over her head. It catches on her chin and they have a brief interlude of laughter as he helps free her head from its trapped confines. Once that debacle is over, she presses herself back into him, skin on mostly naked skin. Their lips meet again and he fumbles with the clasps on her bra, like it takes more brain power than he has to get his fingers to cooperate. It’s pulled off eventually, and his fingers rub into the slight grooves left imprinted in her skin and she hums against his lips with the gesture. But she still feels his dick pressing against her stomach, and her own clit has been throbbing against the ribbed harness for far too long, and she pulls away.

Her hands tug at the clasp and zippers on his pants and opens them, Chris sighing in her ear. He obligingly lifts his hips away from the desk when she yanks them down with his underwear and his cock springs up to his stomach, dripping from the tip and red with want. ‘ _Shit, he must have been leaking like that for ages_ ’ she realizes. One of her hands gently wraps around him, thumb just at the bottom of the tip. Chris cries out with it, a desperate little “ah!” and a canter of his hips towards her. She makes a soothing noise and kisses his jaw.

“Turn around for me baby? I promise I’ll be gentle” she asks softly, and he huffs out a small laugh even as he stiffens just a bit in her arms. As she steps away, looking down and fishing the lube out of her pockets she hears him shifting before he quietly says,

“Not _too_ gentle, I hope”.

She looks up with a quirked eyebrow and small smile, only for it to gently slide into a look of awe, taking in the view. He’s got his elbows on the desk, bent at the waist, head down to face his arms. He’s red at the ears and high on his cheeks, and his dick is leaking steadily onto the floor under his desk.

‘ _Fuck, we’re really doing this_ ’

She shoves her pants down and off with, lube in hand. She comes back to him, rests the packets on the desk, nudging his legs just a bit more apart which he does quickly and willingly. She presses herself to the side of his back, trailing kisses down his spine as she grabs his ass with one hand, tears a packet open with her teeth and spreads the contents onto the other. She spits the corner out somewhere over her shoulder so she can hiss,

“God Chris, you look so _fucking_ good like this. You were _made_ for this”

The words just sort of come to her now, unbidden. Praise she had always wanted to say but didn’t, compliments she never found the right time to give, now pouring out of her while she reaches between his legs. He blushes even harder with every word, drips with it, so clearly _loves it_ . Her thumb presses against his rim and rubs circles against him, her first two fingers curling down to press at the space between his rim and balls. Chris _keens_ with it, hips jerking as the whine in his throat is hissed through clenched teeth. She’s barely started and he’s _this_ responsive? Fuck, how had this not come up earlier in their trysts? She rubs her thumb against him harder.

“So good, that’s it babe. Focus on how good it feels. Baby, you’ll tell me if you’re close or if it hurts, ok?” She doesn’t want him shooting off before she’s well and truly fucked him, and she _certainly_ doesn’t wanna hurt him. Well, not in any way he doesn’t _want_ to be hurt, anyway. He nods, a strangled grunt of agreement alongside it, and with that she adjusts her hand and pushes her pointer finger in.

He sighs a bit at it, no resistance to her at all, even pushes back against her to hurry her pace. Her other hand shifts to his lower back and she chides gently “Hey, hey, this isn’t a race”

He shakes his head in his arms.

“Not made of glass, Una” and she decides he sounds just a bit too put together for her taste, so she shifts her thumb and presses it to the space in front of his rim, dragging it down hard before pulling it back up.

He yelps with the drag of it, helpless little cries following it as she repeats the motion. She angles herself to look through the glass table and yeah, there’s a small pool from where he’s dripping from the attention. She wonders briefly what it’ll look like when she’s done with him, before shifting her focus back to the task at hand.

She stretches him slowly. _Achingly_ slowly. Pistoning first the one finger, then two, slowly three. At two, she experimentally flexed her fingers against the resistance of his rim and he made the first real *moan* since they started. Usually she only gets those when he’s fucking her and incredibly close. Apparently, that’s just how much he’s affected by her, by _this_ . She ordered him not to come unless she says so, or he’ll be punished, and the tremble of his frame and the unmistakable clench of him around her fingers in response is enough for her to make a note of and file away. She’ll explore _that_ another day. Also at two fingers, she started to curl her fingers into his prostate and he practically sobbed every time she did so. She spread her fingers into a V shape, stretching him as she pulled out and pressing just at the sides of his prostate as she pushed in, and _fuck_ she felt drunk on the cries he made at that. Desperate, louder and louder, swearing and pleading before he seemed to lose the capacity to even form those words, reduced to helpless moans and cries.

By the time she pushes three into him, she doesn’t even know how long it’s been. It could be hours, it could be minutes, she has no idea. Chris is fucking _gone_ , his world seemingly reduced to her and what she’s doing to him. He’s crying out with every slide of her fingers, his his body pressing flat against the desk, fingers scrabbling at the edges for something, anything to hold. His hair is a wreck, he’s got bites and bruises down his neck, his back, his shoulders. His head thrashes between his arms and she can see overstimulated tears collecting in the corners of his eyes. ‘ _Fuck, he’s ready_ ’, she decides, and slides her fingers completely out of him.

He sobs at the loss, quietly whispers rough and desperate “no, _no_ ” and reaches for her. ‘ _Oh baby_ ’ she thinks, and presses her front to his back, shushes gently, soothes him as her hands fumble for another packet of lube on the desk corner. When he settles, she taps the buttons on her wrist remote as she pulls back slightly, and the circular panel comes to life and materializes the toy. She pours the lube on her hand, pumps the toy a few times with it, makes a few desperate whimpers low in her throat as it shifts the ribbing over her clit. When it's coated and she doesn’t think she can take it anymore, she shifts to line herself up with him. He scrambles to haul himself back up on his elbows at the feel of the toys head against his rim, breathing heavily. She distantly realizes she is too.

“You ready babe?” She asks even though she knows he’s desperate for it. He nods, hands twitching with the obvious impulse to take himself in hand. She grabs the base of the toy, inhales at the feel of the ribbed bit shifting on her clit once again, and pushes in slowly. She trains her eyes on Chris, looking for the first sign of discomfort.

It doesn’t come, but from the looks of it, Chris almost does. He makes a loud, choked cry at the feel of the flared head pushing into him. Each of the ribbed bands following the head draw quick and surprised “ _ah!_ ” noises from him. When it reaches the flared base and she’s fully seated in him, it’s like all the air is knocked from him and he exhales hard as his head drops into his arms and his shoulders shake. When she presses her front to his back now, it changes the angle of the toy to press even harder into both of them and they both gasp with it. For a few moments, neither move, trying to adjust. She lifts her head, whispering,

“Ok?”

He nods again, making a desperate noise.

“ _please_ ”. He quietly rasps, begging.

‘ _Fuck, he sounds like he’s been screaming for me for hours already_ ’ is the last lucid though she has because when she pulls her hips back, it rubs the toy against her clit _so good_ and something in her just _snaps_.

She sets a truly punishing pace, fucking him hard and fast where she thought she would at least take it slow because he’s not exactly fucking him with a small toy, but she can’t help it she really can’t; she’s too far gone. And Chris isn’t making it any easier.

He’s _loving_ it. He’s nearly screaming, the head of her cock doubtlessly dragging against his prostate with every move, the ridges doing the same and catching at his rim when she pulls back.Her hands are gripping his hips so tight that she’s sure she’s bruising him and she doesn’t think he can move them at all but he doesn’t even seem to care. He’s shaking with it, and padds are falling off the desk and neither of them care and at some point one of his legs gets pushed up onto the desk and it must let her go deeper or hit him where he needs it even harder because when it goes up he goes from nearly screaming to _very much_ screaming.

She deliriously wonders if the soundproofing is gonna cover it. If the whole bridge can hear them, can hear the captain screaming for her wordlessly. If they’re gonna override the door, thinking she’s murdering him or something only to see them like this. See their ever kind, ever put together captain bent over his own desk getting fucked by his first officer so hard he’s lost his mind with the need to come. She dimly realizes she’s no better, crying out with each drag of the ribbing against her, and she realizes just how close she is. She manages to gasp in air and pull herself together enough to form words again, and looks down at Chris, who she’s just now realizing has tears down his cheeks from just how overwhelmed and desperate he is.

“So good you’ve done so good good boy fuck you feel so good come for me Chris fuck _baby_ ” and the last word comes from her mouth strangled and desperate because just as one of her hands releases his hip to wrap around his cock she hits her peak and starts coming, shaking apart with it.

Chris honest to god _wails_ when she wraps her hand around him and she feels him curl like he’s been sucker punched and comes _hard_ . He’s wailing and shaking and screaming and his hips piston almost violently between her hips and hand as he comes without end in sight and it only rocks the toy back against her harder, makes for a few delicious seconds where it’s a feedback loop of hip jerks and harder thrusts and _fuck fuck so good fuck_ until they both start to gasp for air as they freefall down from their crescendos.

At some point they begin to slide from the desk and Una has just enough presence of mind to slip out of him and wrap herself around him before they gently fall to the floor. He’s not light, and she’s boneless, so they end up laying together, Chris half on top of her as they catch their breath. They’re both shaking from it and the sweat begins to cool on their skin. She runs her hand absentmindedly through his hair, scratching his scalp, and he makes a pleased hum and nuzzles his head into the side of her neck. Minutes pass, and she gathers herself enough to look down at where he’s tucked into her, and takes a steadying breath.

“You ok?” She asks quietly, placing a gentle kiss on the top of his head.

He huffs a small warm breath into her collarbone before lifting his head to look at her. His eyes are half lidded and only a bit red at the edges. A lazy smile she can only describe as “well and thoroughly fucked and satisfied” on his face. He quirked an eyebrow at her.

“I think I’m pretty damn-” He starts jokingly, before his eyes flicker down and his face morphs into half concern half surprise at how shot his voice sounds; low, rasping, only really half there. ’ _Likely worn out from spending the better part of an hour begging for her to fuck him_ ’, she muses. She manages to mostly tamp down a snort as she lifts one of his hands to join his at his throat. He looks back up to her with a comically shocked expression.

“I was gonna say I’m ok for someone who almost died having sex, but clearly not!” He puts a valiant effort in pretending to be angry, but he starts to laugh as a smile grows on her face.

“Look at what you did!” His voice cracking on the last word, fraying at the edges. “You broke your Captain!” It breaks again at ‘Captain’ and they fall into hopeless giggles. Laying on the floor of the ready room, half naked after marathon sex is decidedly *not* how she had thought her day would end when she woke up this morning. The thought alone sends her spiraling into even more hysterical laughter, which forces her to explain her thought to Chris, and then they’re well and truly lost in their exhausted laughter.

When her giggles start to wind down, she moves to sit up and stretch and Chris follows her lead. It’s only as she happens to glance over to him as he’s rolling his head to stretch his neck that she sees the number she did on him and whistles low in her throat. He looks up at her with a quirked eyebrow and she rocks forwards to put a hand to his neck.

“You are gonna have one _hell_ of a time explaining these to medical when you go get healed up”, She says good naturedly, thumb pressing down lightly on a particularly mottled bite at the base of his neck. His eyelids flutter at the pressure, shoulders dropping just a bit with it.

“It’ll be fine” he says shortly, then looks away, not moving his head away but also not meeting her eyes. She pauses. She knows that look. He’s not telling her something.

“Chris?”

He moves his chin slightly more towards her, but says nothing, eyes still downcast.

“Chris” She says, firmer this time. “ _Baby_ ”

The petname does it, which Una files away for future reference. He looks at her and kinda breathes out a half laugh, hand moving to cover her own, still pressed into him.

“I don’t really, uh, _want_ to go get rid of them” He almost phrases it like a question. His eyes cautiously look up at her through his lashes, and he bites his lip seemingly unaware, and that action alone tells Una he’s trying to read her, looking for the first sign of hesitation or discomfort.

‘ _He’s never been in this position before_ ’ She realizes with a start. ‘ _He’s never been the one to get his world rocked, always the one on the giving end, but he let_ _me_ _. He let me-_ ’

‘ _He doesn’t know how to ask for it again, and he wants to savor it while he can’_

The realization fills her with warmth, and she can’t stop the wide warm grin that stretches across her face even if she wanted too. This man was too good for her. Too good for this world. She shifts her hand and presses her thumb into the bruise again and Chris instantly relaxes back into her, soothed by the gesture. She leans in and kisses him, other hand cupping his cheek, and his other hand covers that one too.

She pulls back, only a bit.

“It _is_ a good look for you”

He smiles at her so warmly she just _has_ to kiss him again, before continuing.

“I may just have to do all this again just to see it. What a waste to only see it once”

He laughs, but the blush comes back full force and she’s delighted to learn that apparently when she flirts with him he blushes _all over_ , not just at the ears and cheeks.

“I’ll never be able to get work done in here now, thanks to you” He gripes, eyes traveling over the mess of knocked over padds, his come on the floor, the imprints of their sweat covered bodies from where they laid, the strewn clothes.

“Bold of you to say you got work done in here to begin with” She replies as she stretches, not missing a beat. She analyzes the collateral damage around them with a sigh. She turns to him with a wry smile

“After we clean up, get dressed, and replicate you something to make you sound a little less like you’ve been screaming for the last hour, we’ll say we did paperwork. I helped you finish, you leave your work here, we get dinner, and you actually finish up tomorrow. That a good deal, _pretty boy_?”

Pike grins at her tone and nodding with a “yes ma’am” even as he blushes again, and Una decides as she watches him stumble into his pants on shaking legs that she could get used to this.

  


**Author's Note:**

> I wrote 7000 words of bad smut instead of writing a 10 page paper I have due in 3 weeks, any of the 3 projects I have due in the next 2, or a different paper due in a week. Star Trek discord, I blame you. Please leave kudos/ scream at me in the comments if you liked, this is the first thing I've written in *years*, the first thing I've posted to AO3, and the first smut I've written outside the nsfw channel lmao


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